


Tantrum

by FlusForest



Category: The Dragon Prince
Genre: Aaravos having an emotional breakdown, Angst, Gen, i guess viravos if you squint really hard lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlusForest/pseuds/FlusForest
Summary: Aaravos’s study stayed a mess for what felt like weeks, too drained emotionally to even think about cleaning it up. He stayed curled up in his bed or his chair, not moving for hours, not eating or bathing, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck in an uncomfortable, greasy manner. It had only been a short time interacting with the mysterious human, but he felt an instant connection, one that didn’t need a blood ritual. But he needed the crimson liquid, the final part of the ritual to communicate with the mage, to finally match a voice to his face.
Kudos: 9





	Tantrum

A beacon of light, a new hope, new promises and plans filled his mind, expanding it to all the possibilities at his very fingertips. A voiceless being before him, lips curling into sneers and endless questions, unheard, yet heard at the same time. Eyes as cold as a silver ocean piercing into honey gold, trying to read them, consume them like they were the ripest of fruits. The darkening of those icy pools and a crooked smirk sent a shiver down his spine, but before Aaravos could take in a longer drink of the pleasant site, a darkened sheet covered his only chance at a much more exciting chapter of his boring life.

That small room lit by flickering candles vanished before Aaravos’s eyes, the human with the sneering smile and familiar staff gone before he could hear him speak, place the muted lips with a voice, watch those tantalizing eyes bounce from various emotions lit up by some sort of volume. His stomach sank, twisting in such a way that made him nauseous, bile wanting to crawl up his throat and burn in its wake. After all this time being stuck in isolation with muddled thoughts of the future and where it would take him. Aaravos was tired of being alone, tired of rereading the same books and being in the same room and staring at nothing and everything from the other side of the mirror.  
This strange person gave him the barest hints of the taste of freedom...

...and it made him furious.

The fire roared with Aaravos’s raw emotion, flames growing high above its casing, licking at the various books nestled in their casing, threatening to engulf them. His desk once pristine was blasted on its side by a gust of wind, a bowl shattered on the wall across the room. He ripped off his hood and violently combed his fingers through his hair, hard enough that strands tangled between his four digits. Aaravos paced the room, hands fisting at his gut, the nausea that was just a whisper plunged full force into a scream, his knees shaking and buckling, hitting the floor in an instant. He rubbed at his belly with one hand, the other flying up to his mouth to stop the bile that threatened to spill from his mouth.

No...

No!!!

It came up in an instant, bile and the barest hints of whatever he ate last splattering on the floor, the smell making Aaravos gag and repeat his action. He scooted away from it and all but ran towards his own reflection, silver locks in disarray, eyes wide and threatening to pour out tears. His hand reached out and touched the cool glass, barely feeling himself there. Hand trembling, he bit his lip, the tears finally streaming down his cheeks, down his neck, leaving him uncomfortably warm and wet.

“I...”

Aaravos’s voice croaked, unused for a near millennium, cracking and raspy as he tried to form words. His hand traced his reflected horns, following to his hair, his ears, nose, quivering mouth and downward some more. Anywhere but those bewildered eyes, those golden honey irises looking of that of a child’s, and not of a being such as himself. Nose dripping freely, mouth gaping with the hints of drool and remnants of vomit. Aaravos finally wipes at his mouth and nose, sniffling too hard and grimacing at the foul aftertaste that’s covering his teeth.

“I don’t want to be left alone again.”

**  
Aaravos’s study stayed a mess for what felt like weeks, too drained emotionally to even think about cleaning it up. He stayed curled up in his bed or his chair, not moving for hours, not eating or bathing, his hair sticking to his forehead and neck in an uncomfortable, greasy manner. It had only been a short time interacting with the mysterious human, but he felt an instant connection, one that didn’t need a blood ritual. But he needed the crimson liquid, the final part of the ritual to communicate with the mage, to finally match a voice to his face.

He would take occasional glances at the mirror, seething with anger, another tantrum threatening to bubble up and cause more harm to his prison, to the only home he could remember at this point. He let out a sigh and waved a hand weakly in the air, eyes narrowing at how weak the magic flickered upon his fingertips and how they shook from lack of food. He managed to get the room pristine, even the books who had some scorch marks to them now looked new. Aaravos sighed once more and pulled up his hood and curled into his chair, impossibly long legs dangling awkwardly, bare feet barely skimming the floor.

He supposed he should get up and take a long bath, and get some sort of food in his system. Standing was proving to be a chore, black dots littering his vision and body swaying with light headedness. 

Aaravos was done with his tantrum and would figure something out, get back on his feet and start reading to lift his spirits, starting from the highest shelf to his scrolls of ancient spells. He usually kept up with his reading, at least getting a few chapters in every day, now the pages of those novels, scrolls, and historical books untouched and collecting dust.

He rose to his feet and held himself up for a moment to collect himself. Belly growling in protest over the lack of food, Aaravos decided to make something small and warm, a soup with lots of vegetables and noodles to fill him up comfortably. He smiled softly to himself at the thought of the food filling his belly and took another glance towards the icy glass of the mirror, brows shooting up, his hunger and dirtiness forgotten in an instant when he saw was he dreamed of seeing for weeks.

The mage, this new hope that caused a swell in his chest, emotions he hadn’t felt in years, staring out into his room, those icy pools of gray ready to submit to him, blade in hand, mouth uttering mutely the phase “I’m ready.”

Aaravos smirked and returned to the glass, mirroring the image in front of him, and cut his hand, the final act of the ritual complete. The blood of a mage and an unknown being, mixing together to form an even stronger bond than he had felt before.

_Please, don’t leave me alone again._

**Author's Note:**

> New hyperfixation, new writing material. I plan on writing plenty more for TDP at some point to get out of the writer’s block hole I dug myself.
> 
> *Typed on my phone and briefly checked over, I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes.


End file.
